


Wretched Automatons

by WolfintheFlowers



Series: City of Commerce [1]
Category: Almost Human, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Android Gavin Reed, Android Hank Anderson, Connor & RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are siblings, Gen, Human Connor, Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 10:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfintheFlowers/pseuds/WolfintheFlowers
Summary: Machines, though lesser, are considered an asset to life. However, there is a stigma to the older models coded with 'free will', a tragedy that caused for the majority of the public to call for Chloe Kamski to step down in 2028.Twenty years later, and it is questioned if those older models even felt at all.





	Wretched Automatons

**Author's Note:**

> The show Almost Human managed to piledrive me into its pit, so I had no choice but to mix the two android media together, as well as sprinkle it with a little bit of NieR, since I had the NieR soundtrack in the background as I wrote this.
> 
> Don't have to have seen the show to enjoy, for if I had tried to blend in the Almost Human characters into this it would have become a MESS.
> 
> Do we have to be worried about being sued for writing fanfiction again? I'll just say I don't own the characters just in case.

* * *

**SACRED HART HOSPITAL**

**JUNE 14, 2048**

**PM 12:01:43**

Tossing the tablet to the side, Connor leaned back in the propped up hospital bed and closed his eyes, hating the fake blue sky to his left, of a countryside that no civilian could set foot in anymore, not without layers upon layers of clearance.

The bitter sight brought back memories of a childhood that a part of himself wished to have back, a sweeter time that he knew deep in his soul was long gone, a time where siblings knew nothing of what was transpiring on the other side of the world, where even their nervous parents paid no mind to the whispers.

_'Damn it...'_

Connor controlled his burning breaths as the heart monitor escalated from his abnormal beats, and managed to bring it down before an ANE - his fingers clenched on the soft sheets at the thought - could come into the room and inject him with a calming syringe, perhaps would even petting his head like a dog all the while as it did it.

At least the doctor - blurred and dull as the memory was - from yesterday had told him he would be released that day, so all Connor had to do was wait for one last test before he was able to go, until his regulator - nearly thirty-six and he already had an artificial biocomponent in this body - was given the 'all clear', until he was able to find out what the department had on file for the cartel's trials, regardless if the Captain gave him permission.

There was a sharp knock at his door that took him out of his dark thoughts, and he sat up straighter in the bed while he told the person to come in.

But, of course, what walked in wasn't a person.

"Hello detective," the android nurse - that older android that he could never forget, for his sorority had made a drunken chant for it when the commercial first showed off those _harbingers_ to the world - greeted him with that uncomfortable homey smile that was the staple of all ANE models, as if their patients were all that mattered in the world. "I brought you lunch."

Connor turned his head straight with a sigh and situated himself, pushing his body back so he didn't slouch while eating, for he was sure that if he did, the ANE would pick him up like a baby and make him sit upright.

"Low sodium and low sugar," the model ANE continued while it put the tray legs down over his lap, LED slowly swirling that electric blue, "a diet that you _must_ follow in order to keep your regulator in working order." Connor stared down at the bland food, aware that the ANE was hovering close, could _hear_ it. "Do I need to repeat myself, detective?"

"No," he told the android, picking up the glass of water - he would have taken a glass of warm milk instead, at least  _that_ would have had a distinct taste to it - to take long gulps of it.

"Of course," the model ANE told him, "have a pleasant meal. I will be back to take the empty tray and bring you your belongings, and Doctor Manfred will be with you at 1 o'clock to check your regulator."

Connor didn't acknowledge the android as it left, and instead stared down at the unappetizing - no doubt lukewarm, couldn't be too hot, now could it? - meal with a grimace, before he poked at the thick slice of what he hoped was mustard covered turkey, and not new experimental meat that scientists were creating in their labs.

The IC doctor walked in at exactly 1 - which he was grateful for - and gave Connor a bright smile that had just the right amount of imperfections that eased Connor's anxiety, telling him that the doctor was completely human and not a machine, or genetically modified in a synthetic womb.

"How are you feeling today, Connor?"

He smiled as the doctor neared, and tried not to stare nervously at the scanner in Doctor Manfred's hand as he answered, "about as well as any person who got shot in the heart point blank."

The doctor gave him a humored smile back, then put the scanner to Connor's chest, which tingled in an unpleasant - not painful, completely psychological - manner while it was moved in a slow circle.

"Your regulator is working perfectly," Doctor Manfred told him, voice soothing in his ears. "However, I still advise for you to take either aleve or advil for ten days, once in the morning and once at night, to make sure that your blood doesn't clot around the regulator, and to fight any inflammation that could occur with movement."

"Got it," he told the doctor with his winning smile. When Connor's eyes stayed locked with the bright heterochromia eyes - no camera in the abyss - for too long without his say, he quickly turned his gaze away, "so I can go now?"

"Whenever you're ready," Doctor Manfred told him with what he was  _sure_ was an amused tone - of course, someone who was born naturally like  _that_ had to know how handsome they were - "you can leave at any time, detective."

"Thanks," he spoke in a voice that didn't give himself away - he wasn't a teenager - and got out of bed as the doctor made for the door, but only began to change once Doctor Manfred was gone.

After a quick trip to the bathroom - only having a slight scare when he felt his heartbeat miss a beat, but relaxed when it didn't hurt or continue - he left the hospital room and weaved through the slightly crowded area - only two of the dozens in the halls were humans - and to the receptionist, and signed out with nearly illegible writing in his haste.

"Have a pleasant day," the ST600 told him with a fake grin while he turned, and Connor said nothing as he made his way to the ground floor, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

It was slightly more crowded down below - his eyes glanced over the civilians as the older did for him, the only human child in the room reading on their tablets, clearly with the flu - and Connor held the keys in his pocket tightly while he weaved through them all, ears slightly buzzing from the sounds of the slightly loud television and one scared, angry civilian that wanted to know what was wrong with them, not envying the workers - well, not the hospital androids, they were made to handle humans at their worst - in the slightest.

And yet, in the safety of his autonomous car, having it drive away from the same hospital that his brother - his twin, the string holding him to earth - was sponsored at for too short of a time, Connor’s hands started to shake, his breaths burned, and he hid his face from the world.

 _"Mission failed,"_ the memory of their youngest brother had spoken with that perfectly monotone voice of his, that memory of better times that dug and dug and dug with each cheerful, faded laugh and pounding foot on damp, ankle high grass.

He went through an entire packet of pocket tissues before the car parked in the police lot, and Connor took a moment to gather himself, made sure that his face was presentable, then searched his car when it was. After finding what he was looking for, he drunk most of the hot water from the old bottle he had forgotten about, feeling the tightness at his temple.

Then he took a deep breath, then exited.

"Detective," the ST500 greeted him with a smile as he walked inside, "the Captain is waiting for your arrival, I'll contact her now."

A pit of dread started to form in his stomach, remembering the last time that Captain Estrada had waited for him, before he told himself that it was only because he had been released from the hospital that she wanted him in her office; had to be.

With slightly hesitant, unsteady steps, he turned from the receptionist and towards the bullpen, ignoring the PC model that wished him a good day as he passed it on his way inside.

From a glace to the bullpen, it seemed that everyone else was on the streets, with only Rojas still at her desk. He gave her a nod when she glanced up, and turned away as she gave him one too, noticing that the dark circles rimming her eyes were deeper than when he last saw her, which wasn't surprising.

The Captain's office had the cloudy glass activated, which concerned him more than usual when he saw that there was a silhouette inside, still as can be, like before.

 _'If that is an ANE,'_ he thought while curling his hands into a fist to control himself,  _'I'm going to put a bullet in its brain.'_

He took a deep breath before he knocked.

_"Come in, detective."_

Connor let out that breath, then opened the door, and suddenly wished that it was an android that had been waiting in the room.

Gray eyes - genetically spliced in the synthetic womb to have the least amount of blue as possible - stared down at him, neck covered as always, expect that it was a turtleneck instead of his younger brother's usual high collared buttoned shirts. It sent a ping of hurt threw his heart that it was the only familiar thing about his younger brother, before resentment turned that sentimental feeling to bitterness.

"Close the door, detective."

Connor glanced over to Estrada, back to the Chrome, before he stepped inside and closed the door.

"What does the FBI want?" he asked with a controlled voice.

Of course, Richard's face didn't move an inch.

"Washington granted Special Agent Anderson leave to help the department with the trail the _NANP_ has found," Captain Estrada answered for the silent - had gotten quieter and quieter when his genetically modified brain grew too large for children's games - Chrome. "Since we are stretched thin as it is," his captain continued, unknowing to Connor's dark thoughts, "he is also given leave to help when he has time."

"Nice of them," he tried not to bite out his words, not wanting to show his pain to any of them. "And how is Behavioral Science going to help the department with writing tickets?"

"Detective," Estrada chided him instntly, and he winced, looking over to her disappointed gaze. "Whatever hard feelings you two have needs to be put to the side, else this precinct will become a hub of disorder."

Connor tightened his lips to keep from saying that he only had one brother that shared his blood, and he was dead.

"The remnants of the cartel wants to distract and tear the city of Detroit apart," Richard spoke to both him and Estrada, voice as deep as smooth as Connor's voice could only hope to be. "No doubt they will want you emotionally compromised before the trial in eleven months."

"Of course you know about the trial."

Gray eyes might have narrowed after the quick blink, but it was always hard to see the imperfections of a Chrome.

"I would like to continue this personal conversation in a different room," Richard told Captain Estrada while turning his head away from Connor.

"You can tell him about your new partners," his captain told the Chrome with a nod as Connor's eyes moved to his brother's shorter hair when the light caught it, feeling another unwanted twinge when he saw what little curls Richard had was slicked back and tamed, unlike the rest of their - Connor’s family. "Interview Room 3 should be free."

Richard left without another word, not bumping into Connor's shoulder as he passed, because why would the perfect Chrome do something as petty as that? After a stiff nod to his captain, Connor turned and followed Richard out of the room and closed the door, lips tight.

Downstairs, he saw an old man glaring down a model PC near the break room, who had the signs of malfunction, for it was 'talking' with its hands, though Connor heard no words coming from it.

Annoyed blue eyes flickered over the android's head - P.I., had to be, with how he was dressed in a hippie shirt while wearing one of those old 'bullet catcher' jackets - and Connor gave the old man a nod of solidarity for having to deal with a defective android, before he turned and followed Richard into the room.

He nearly flinched when the Chrome closed the door, the soft click seeming to echo in his chest.

"You still hate me."

Out of all the words that could have been said once the door was closed, that was _not_ what he wanted.

"I'm not having this conversation while I'm at work," he said, glaring up at the Chrome.

The slightest narrow of gray eyes, the only hint that Connor would get that Richard was contemplating - perhaps was even frustrated. It was a familiar expression that tightened his throat.

"And when exactly do you want this conversation to happen, Connor?"

"Never," he snipped.

Gray eyes stared down at him.

"If we are expected to work together, we need to at least be civil with one another." His heartbeat gave a hard pound. "I'm not asking for you to forgive me," Richard spoke with a tone that was nearly human, "just to not put lives in danger - " Connor turned from the Chrome " - in our upcoming cases because your mind is not in the right place."

Tired eyes stared back at him from the black mirror, his own dark, reflected eyes heated, the only - warped - piece of his twin that he had in the world anymore. Richard's reflection was turned towards him, white and black trench coat - it was black trimmed and expensive looking, why  _wouldn't_ it be? - impeccably clean even in the slightly smudged surface.

 _"Aaron knew the risks when he volunteered to go into the quarantine zone,"_ the Chrome had tried to explain, clothed as if he had to tell the world his morals could not be comprised,  _"those who stayed told us to prioritized the evacuation of civilians over themselves."_

Tilting his head down, he took in a deep breath, let it out, then took a longer one in.

"You're right about one thing," Connor told the Chrome, and turned to him sharply, "I won't ever,  _ever,_ forgive you,"

Gray eyes blinked down at him slow, but that porcelain face gave him nothing, would  _never_ give him anything that would even  _hint_ that he felt anything other than superiority.

Richard turned from him slightly, placing his hands behind his back, "I expect nothing less." The Chrome tilted his head towards him before Connor could snip anything back. "The Red Ice cartel is said to have a link in Canada, who in turn seem to be smuggling an unnamed personal drug into North America."

Connor relaxed his jaw.

"What do you mean by personal?" he asked, being professional.

Reaching into his trench coat, the Chrome turned around fully and handed him one of the expandable prototype tablets, which was unlocking with Richard's fingerprint while Connor reached for it.

Thankfully, the Chrome didn't speak while Connor quickly skimmed the newest information - Soren O'Hara, 19, died June 1; Maria Lattimer, 20, died June 5; Jess Lattimer, 51, June 5 - before he swiped over to the autopsy tab.

"The drug was specifically made for them," he summarized, not truly believing what he was reading. "This cartel is making drugs with their costumers DNA mixed into it, to get them addicted faster?"

"I concluded to that effect," Richard agreed. "As well as it being a perk that the cartel is selling to potential consumers."

"Who wants a drug that is personally made for them?" he found himself asking.

"College students," the Chrome answered. "At least, that is the majority of the victims. As well as being from colleges, all victims are from different backgrounds, and all had been young adults. Until now." Connor glanced down as Richard brought his hand to the tablet to swipe and scroll back to Jess Lattimer. "From what I have assessed to be the college student hiding his pills in the expired caffeine bottle meant for the truck supervisor, there were a few leftover pills that we found that had Jess Lattimer's DNA mixed inside." Again, the screen was scrolled, and Maria Lattimer's autopsy file was in front of his eyes. "DNA that caused Maria Lattimer to have a transfusion-associated circulatory overload."

Connor moved his eyes away from the tablet, frowning in thought.

"The one who made the drug wanted him to die at a random time," he theorized. Connor slowly looked to the tablet, "so, this drug, I'm guessing the pill is putting foreign blood back into the system, despite the fact that it shouldn't be able to do that through the stomach."

Connor looked up, and Richard gave him a stiff nod, "our forensic team is still trying to discern how the pill works."

That wasn't surprising, but impatience wormed into his chest.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

Gray eyes stared down at him as Richard took back the tablet.

"The first incident that happened in North America was in January, while Canada's happened in July 2042."

Connor glanced away in thought.

"Canada was a test run," he proposed.

"I came to the same conclusion as well." Feeling the wave of nausea from the beginning of a migraine, Connor brought his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Should we wait for you to take a migraine pill before we begin to work?"

Connor let out a small breath through his mouth, "I'll take the car..." He narrowed his eyes at the Chrome, "we? Who is working with us?"

Richard opened his mouth, yet didn't speak a word, and instead closed his mouth to tilt his head in a - subdued - thinking motion that the Chrome never seemed to have grown out of after picking it up from Connor, which he had to look away from.

However, when Richard went to the mirror and knocked twice rapidly, Connor turned around with a questioned hum.

There was a stilled pause, before the other side of the room lit with white light, the damaged android and P.I. from earlier staring right back at him, which sent a chill down his spine.

"GV200," Richard began to recite as if he practiced it, which almost took Connor's gaze away from the P.I. that was building dread inside him, "the commercial android from the RK100 prototype line. It was one of the last of nine, stored here in Detroit, for the GV200 was too expensive to get valuable to be recycled for parts.

However, this one was the only one that could be activated, since Sever - " Connor twitched at the name of that religious cult " - broke into the CyberLife's warehouse in 2038." Richard jerked his head stiffly to the P.I., "I suppose you would not recognize the RK100."

Connor flinched and immediately stepped back from the glass, hand on his gun, "what the  _fuck_ is that thing doing active, unsupervised?"

"As with the GV200," Richard recited once more, no hint of fear in his voice, "RK100 would have been well over two hundred twenty thousand dollars wasted if its model was torn apart. Each was pulled out of cold storage, modified to have better battery life, and all files updated."

Connor was able to tear his eyes from the RK100 to turn to Richard while he jabbed his finger at the breakable glass - at the ‘curious’ androids - that was all that separated them from emotional killing machines, "this android kept losing its mechanical mind and its just  _allowed_ to be activated again?"

"Captain Estrada and I have faith that you would be able to handle the Deviant on your own." His foot took another step back involuntarily. "We are too low on - "

"Myself?" he interrupted the Chrome. "How does she - how do  _you_ expect me to bring this 600 pound of metal and silicone down by myself when it loses its  _fucking_ mind?!"

 _"Nearly 300 pounds - "_ he flinched hard  _" - Detective Anderson."_

Connor stared at the android, who was staring at him with blue eyes that were too human, analyzing him, mimicking. Eyes that stared down fellow 'emotionally human' androids and shot them without the remorse that it was supposed to have been programmed with; had tried to destroy itself both slow and quick before it was finally shut down.

"Fuck this," he managed to stammer out, fleeing to the door.

"Connor, you shouldn't - "

"Fuck. You."

Leaving the door opened, he made for the back door, pushing it open and trying not to run, not wanting anyone to try and stop him, but couldn't stop himself from jogging to the safety of his car.

Once inside, Connor brought his forehead to the warm dashboard, missing the wheel from his first ever car, for at least then he would have something to grip his shaking hands on instead of his own thighs.

What the  _hell_ was the captain - his machine of a brother - thinking, agreeing to have that RK100 walking around? The department's dwindled numbers -  _humanity's_ dwindled numbers; it felt right to be bleak and morose at the moment - from the Trenchant virus be damned, that _Deviant_ should have stayed shut down, destroyed, preferably melted down.

That RK100 was unstable, proven time and time again, couldn't be written out as workable unless a whole new code was placed in the body, which, to Connor, was what they should have done to them all, to  _hell_ with the older models 'instincts' that group tried to tell them all androids had, civilians' safety should take high priority.

It was getting harder and harder to breath, his regulator trying hard to steady his panicked heart, could  _feel_ the foreign object working in his chest, and his hands would not stop shaking.

They would not.

Stop.

Shaking.

Then the phantom cries for mercy came.

Connor shook his quaking head, trying to bury the Wall, the protesters, the fearful, the screaming bundle of cloths that shouted man had tried to pass on to the unfeeling ANEs as the metal shielded the dying away from them all, suffocating in his mask from sharp breaths and the Panic that had swept them all in their new gray world.

Sudden, ringing ears from a grenade, scorching thirium, screams, pleas, cries, every memory from that time swirled into twisted marvels until he couldn't tell those cries of the alive from the machines, all clawing, tearful, wanting not to die.

Not until his arms were squeezed together, when everything was squeezed tight, his head held close against a chest that gave a steady heartbeat that beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Only then was that phantom helmet gone, those phantom caressed that begged for him to join them faded.

Yet still, when they stopped, he was held tight. Until his lungs stopped burning, his regulator stopped pounding, his own heartbeat slowed to match the heart that his ear was against, his breath matching the rise and fall of the chest he was up against.

With a long breath out, he opened his eyes, seeing only a dark shirt, which had him closing his eyes tight for a second more.

Groaning, full of embarrassment, he pushed on the hard chest, and was let go gently, which just made his face heat up more. "You better not - "

Deep blue, compassionate eyes, stared down at him, so alive, that when those glass eyes blinked, the irises had shrunk with the pupils. But in that abyss, Connor's panicked brain knew that cameras lied inside, marking it as the android that it was.

The RK100 took a step back when Connor pushed and yelled at it to get away, but talked to him in a voice so soft, even when Connor wanted nothing more than to get his hand on the car door and slam it shut, to get some kind of barrier between the two of them, no matter how flimsy it would be.

"I need you to be calm for me, detective," the Deviant continued to speak while bending down, making itself small, unassuming, trustworthy, face and voice smooth and soothing.

In that moment, that _frightening_ moment, he would see once more - had tried to bury the meaningless _guilt_ of it - how that loud, synthetic loving group could have been won over by those old models of androids, to protest against the recall. Deviants were  _just_ human enough, mimicked humanity down to its microexpressions, that Connor felt his body relax without his say, only to tense when he realized that he was being manipulated.

"Get out of my car," he ordered the Deviant as calmly as he could.

But Connor's jaw was too tight, and his lungs burned.

Blue eyes blinked at him, the look calculating, the liquid solution keeping the glass nice and shiny for the Deviant so it could see.

"I am not in your car, detective," the RK100 stated, voice modulated, still with that hint of warmth underneath, that hint of tightness, as if Connor was a dangerous, cornered animal that needed coaxing out of his hole.

"I want you - to leave," he managed to get out, only struggling once. "Leave to that rundown warehouse and collect dust for the rest of your nonexistent life."

Blue glass eyes narrowed in thought, not in anger, but that didn't mean  _shit_ coming from a Deviant.

"I dispatched the Red Ice cartel completely from Detroit in February 2031," the Deviant told him, the warmth replaced with a steadfast, cool tone. "And I am put back online over a decade later to be told that it was human error that failed to see the carriers crossing our borders to lay another foundation in our city, as well as a new contender setting shop in the black market."

Then the Deviant leaned forward, and Connor tensed with a sharp breath out, smelling the faint scent of heated metal from the moving motors inside the RK100 from its mouth as it continued to speak, "I honestly don't give a fuck what you think of me, Detective Anderson, but I was made to do one job, a job that you could use my help to do."

His curled fingers never wished for a steering wheel more.

"We have the major players of the Red Ice cartel impending trial soon," Connor said to the Deviant, smelling his own breath mixed with the android's faint exhaust from how close it was to him. "Humanity isn't clawing its way out of that pit anymore, we don't need you quite as much as you need us."

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and Connor moved his hand to his gun, seeing his own frightened face reflected back at him in the irises.

Those glass eyes smoothed almost instantly, but Connor wasn't about to fall for  _that._

"Please detective," the Deviant pleaded to him, voice just the right amount of soft and smooth, "let me do this one last job, then you can tell the board that you wish for me to be permanently terminated from service - "

"Detective Anderson."

Connor twitched, watching blue eyes narrow in mimicked disgust and annoyance at the emotionless voice of the android that approached, and he blinked his eyes away to watch the PC600 model walk stiffly towards them, dressed to go on highway patrol.

The RK100 stood smoothly and placed its hands behind its back when the PC model stopped.

"Are you alright, sir? Your stress levels are peaking at 78%."

A scoff left his mouth, "only 78%?"

The PC600's face didn't move an inch, only blinked to keep its glassy eyes from getting tiny scratches that would corrupt footage for its camera. Connor flickered his eyes to the RK100, who was standing stiffly, hands still behind its back. It confused him that the android was not acting more human, until he realized that the Police models were on a higher pedigree than the older android, and could send a file to the board to be reviewed if needed.

It was a far cry from what he saw on the news of the RK100, who wanted nothing more than to die after it failed to save that kid’s life from its mistake.

"Is this outdated prototype bothering you with its coding, detective?"

Connor glanced over to the PC600, then to the stiff RK100.

"This models fine," he heard himself say, and let out a sharp breath of instant regret before he continued, "nothing to report."

The PC600 tilted its head slightly at him, "the outdated prototype was kneeling in an inappropriate manner that should have been programmed out - "

"Return to your post," he ordered the android while nearly shouting, who left without another word. Connor watched it walk away before he turned to the still stiff RK100 next to him. "Just get in the damn car," he told it, voice not as strong as it was before, but he knew that the Deviant could hear him.

Connor watched as the Deviant began to walk around the car, and a wild, frightened thought told him to slam his door and drive off as soon as possible, to run his car into the android to stop it before it went mad. But his hands only twitched in his lap, didn't even reach for his opened door, nor for the ignition button.

He couldn't close his eyes even in defeat as the Deviant reached the passenger side door, and took in a deep, deep breath once the door opened, keeping his eyes forward.

Only when the passenger door closed did he close his own, and moved his hand towards the seat belt, before he slammed the button instead, picking the address to the public park, then leaned back in his chair as he told the radio to play Babymetal, just so he couldn't hear the faint mechanical sounds - well, pseudo sounds - of the Deviant next to him.

It was worse that the Deviant was silent, still as a mannequin, in the passenger seat, and didn't even shit talk him for his taste in music, despite the fact that a lot of his temporary partners would.

 _'Only the human ones,'_ that tiny voice in his head whispered to him.

Connor grimaced to himself, and let out a hard sigh when he let himself acknowledge his faint migraine.

"Detective - " he tensed " - may I ask a few questions?"

He swallowed and made a noise of agreement as he picked up his nearly empty water bottle, seeing that it had just enough for him to swallow a pill.

"Are you a metal fan?"

Connor flipped the container lid open and dug around for the bottle in the side compartment.

"I listen to nearly everything," he answered carefully, finding what he needed quickly in the light mess, "depends on my mood."

The Deviant was quiet for a few seconds as Connor popped the lid open.

"Have you heard of a band called Knights of the Black Death?"

Connor stopped shaking the bottle.

"You like music?" he asked the Deviant, incredulous, prickling with that old curiosity despite himself.

It gave him a look that silently called him a bit of an idiot, which would have been find, if it had come from a human, even a Chrome, though he would have been hard press not to make a snide remark to that person.

"I was made by Chloe Kamski to be as human as possible, in every mannerism, and physical capacity."

Connor stared, but couldn't form a sentence to that, so he hummed, and put the pill he got out into his mouth, swallowing it down with the rest of the water, feeling it take effect immediately.

"May I play my favorite album, detective?"

"Only the driver picks what to play," he spoke automatically, and felt his chest tighten. He dropped the bottle int he compartment and closed the lid. "You can play it on your own time," he explained to the android, to get his mind away from painful memories, "or when you're in the driver's seat."

"I will, detective."

He didn't answer, tried to focus on something else,  _anything_ else, as the car drove down the slightly crowded road, so that he could collect his thoughts, losing himself to the calming rumble and pulsing music underneath him, hoping it could clear his head from the shit week -

Connor picked up his head and snapped it over to the android, "you have a dick?"

Blue eyes stared down at him, blinking twice.

"Yes."

Connor opened his mouth, eyes flickering down involuntarily, before he snapped his head back to the road, then sputtered, "b-but  _why?"_ He continued to ramble as he kept his eyes from flickering over, "I mean, you can't exactly  _program_ sexual attraction, that's a primal thing, you know? Subconsciously wanting to have the best looking and healthy children to continue your lineage and all..." Connor resisted once more to give the android a curious glance as a wild thought forced the words out of his mouth, "robo-birth isn't a thing, is it?"

"No detective," the android answered him, hearing that it was trying hard not to laugh at him, "what you call  _robo-birth_ is not a thing."

Connor hummed, and sunk in his seat, tilting his head back as he felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment, even though he was talking to an android - a  _Deviant -_ a  _murderous_ one at that.

"From what I am told," the RK100 mercilessly went on, "it functions just as well as normal genitalia."

"You had  _sex_ with someone - you mean, a human?"

Blue glass eyes seemed to be lit with humor.

"This is only our first day working together, Connor." His face twitched. "Perhaps this conversation should wait for later?"

Connor turned his head away, feeling his entire face heat to a bright, cheery red.

 _"Or never,"_ he muttered, feeling his fingers move up and down from his jittery anxiety.

It was blissfully quiet of talk as the autonomous car turned a corner, while another song began to fill the car, one of his favorites.

"Hank."

Connor tensed, then frowned.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, risking to look at the android - Deviant - once more.

"You called me RK100 earlier," it explained, "my name is Hank."

Connor stared, then turned his head and crossed his arms.

As the large buildings passed him by, he took a deep breath, and conceded.

"Hank."

The air began to release of more tension as he spoke, and he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, yet with that old curiosity Connor knew wouldn't leave, not with a Deviant so open and willing to answer him without running away or shooting at him.

Connor wasn’t sure if he hated the nature he never grew out of in that moment or not.

* * *

**13TH JUDICIAL DISTRICT COURT**

**JUNE 15, 2048**

**AM 8:48:36**

GV200 had not lost its disdainful frown once inside the elevator, though Richard didn't have enough evidence as to why the android would have animosity towards him. Perhaps it was leftover feelings from the fact that it was humans that tore its body and face apart, leaving its carbon and silicon structure scarred and damaged. Perhaps resentment grew further when the workers at CyberLife left it as it was, for too much money had been spent on it already.

Or perhaps, it was so thoroughly damaged that it was thinking too much about a murderous act that would have it irretrievably pulled from the force.

The elevator doors opened and Richard walked out, keeping his hands in his pockets as he turned to the right and towards Courtroom C, hearing the android follow him closely behind. It was only his genetic makeup that kept him from yawning loudly as he pulled on one of the doors, already seeing that some civilian and reporters had already picked their seats.

Richard turned to see that GV200 was going to follow him inside, too, and opened his mouth to tell it to wait outside on habit, but both police and civil androids were allowed inside the courtroom - the latter only if need be - so he said nothing and turned back, taking the bench one seat behind the prosecution desk.

The android sat down close to him, close enough that his thigh was against its; yet, when he turned to give it a questioned look, the android's gray-green eyes were roaming around in suspicion.

If those older models had been built with an LED, it would no doubt be swirling yellow.

 _"We're in a courtroom,"_ Richard whispered close to the android's ear, for a civilian had taken a seat behind them. GV200 turned its head slightly towards him as Richard continued,  _"whatever program you're running, stop it, or be more subtle about it."_

The android narrowed its glass eyes.

 _"The last time I was in a courtroom,"_ GV200 - thankfully - whispered back at him,  _"the victim's mother tried to shoot the suspect before the verdict was reached."_

Richard glanced over to the door as a woman - who was clearly a reporter - walked in, before he said softly,  _"a lot has changed in sixteen years."_

GV200 frowned deeply, and turned away from him, stiffly.

Before he could comment on that, he saw one of the prosecutors walk in, the older gentleman not sparing a glance towards him as Welborn walked through the aisle and to the desk up front. A yawn threatened to leave his mouth again while Richard looked away from the prosecutor as he settled down at the desk, his posture relaxed and assured; not that there was a reason for the prosecutor not to be.

Not long after, he saw the close remaining family walk in, and Richard raised his hand to catch the searching eyes of the older sister, who took her mother's arm, and walked her to the open space waiting for them.

"It's finally over?" Blaise asked him a question that didn't need to be asked, but she no doubt needed closure.

"Yes," he answered.

Her body loosened, and she sunk into the bench, as if she already heard the guilty verdict. Ms. Vivian closed her eyes and turned around, body stiff as the last time Richard had saw her. The older sister seemed that she would not speak again, so Richard leaned back in his seat and glanced to the juror door, seeing that the second bailiff hadn't arrived yet.

A whiff of familiar vanilla perfume used most often in the Law offices reached his nose, and he flickered his eyes to the side, watching Reeves pass him by with a small cup of coffee in her hand, her hair and body as immaculate as ever. And right behind her was the Defense Attorney, a young man that was too green for the case he was given.

Reeves sat in her seat, but before she could turn and talk with the Elliot family, the left door opened, and the defendant walked in, making the family in front of him stressed and coiled.

Richard could feel the reporters scattered around the room shift and perk up excitedly, like a pack of dogs that smelt the first whiff of cooked meat, and were practically wagging their tails when the juror door opened right after, and the second bailiff walked in, signaling that the twelve jurors were ready to be projected into the courtroom.

The android next to him shifted, thigh leaning further into him, and Richard glanced over to see that its face was slightly pinched, as if it felt the anxiousness in the room, and was expecting something to happen. His eyes glanced down to the empty holster by the android's side, but knew that GV200 didn't need a gun to incapacitate a person if need be.

He stared at the android, and told himself that he had to think of it as a human, in order to calm it down.

 _"All rise,"_ Richard didn't like how the android twitched, but it stood with the rest of them and nothing else, which was promising to its sturdy mental functions.  _"Judge Stephanie Briggs residing."_

Turning his head to face the judge, he tapped the back of GV200's hand - hard plastic, biodegradable silicone skin, warm from inner temperature of its working components - with his own, and flickered his gaze over to see that the android was giving him a confused look.

 _ **"Please be seated,"**  _the judge spoke into the microphone, and Richard curved his hand lightly around the android's - no muscle or cartilage to manipulate from his pressure - wrist to keep it from doing something rash from heightened anxiety as they sat, despite the fact that Richard was positive the android could throw him to the other side of the wall if it wished.  _" **Is it true that the jury had reached a verdict, madam foreperson?"**_

_"We have, your honor."_

A quick glance to the android while the bailiff collected the piece of paper told him that GV200 was slightly more stable than before, which calmed him.

 ** _"If the defense can rise,"_** the judge began as the bailiff walked back to give the paper to the foreperson,  ** _"and I ask for the courtroom to please be silent as the charges are read out. Any disturbances and I will clear the room."_** The hand in his grip twisted, as expected, but the tight grip to his palm was something that he didn't predict.  ** _"On the assault charge against Jeffery Monroe, how did the court find?"_**

_"We find the defendant, Jeffery Monroe, guilty."_

The glance to GV200's face showed that it was void of emotions.

**_"On the charge of being an accomplice to murder, how does the court find the defendant?"_ **

When the android showed no other sign that it would go berserk, he turned back to the foreperson as she spoke _, "we find the defendant, Jeffery Monroe, guilty."_

**_"On the charge of first-degree murder, how does the court find the defendant?"_ **

_"We find the defendant, Jeffery Monroe, not guilty."_

His hand squeezed the android's tight to keep him own self in check.

**_"The court releases the jury from duty, and thanks them for their service."_ **

Richard glanced at the hunched figures of the Elliot family in front of him, but could tell that they would act harshly if he tried to offer them comfort in that long moment as the jury's stream was cut one by one. 

**_"The defendant will serve the maximum service of fifteen years with no possibility of parole. Court is adjourned."_ **

Richard kept his emotions inside as the defendant was escorted out, hearing the reporters already starting to spin their tales as the Elliot family in front of him quietly broke in front of him. His eyes flickered up and caught the eyes of Reeves, who had the same sober eyes as Richard, while Welborn was turning away from the defendant as the door closed.

 _"How did they find him not guilty?"_ he heard Blaise whisper to no one, but Reeves moved her eyes away from the older sister.  _"How?"_

"Reasonable doubt," GV200, not Reeves, answered. Richard realized that his tight grip was still in the android's hand, and slid his hand free before the Elliot family turned. "It just takes one juror to believe that the claim is dubious to muddle months of evidence collecting," the android said to the family in a soft, understanding voice, as if it had been through it.

Considering it was activated between 2029-2032, it probably had.

His words seemed to have worked on the family, in any case.

"He won't be getting out anytime soon," Welborn told the Elliot family softly, "the judge made sure of that."

Blaise closed her eyes and leaned against her mother, and Richard saw that it was best to leave them alone.

Standing, he squeezed their shoulders slightly before departing, feeling the android follow close behind. At least the reporters had left the room to let the family have their moment, though they were waiting outside to ambush the family with questions, and it left a sour taste in his mouth to pass them by without telling them to excuse themselves out of the government building.

Seeing the mass of people waiting for the elevator, Richard went towards the stairs, and was glad for the exercise, for it gave him something to think about instead of what happened in the courtroom.

"Retrieve your weapon," he told the android as he held it open for the GV200.

It narrowed its eyes at him at the order before leaving with a barely audible,  _"fucking humans."_

Richard thought to see that as an offense to tell to the board, then decided that it was small enough to let go; it wouldn't do to have the android become even  _more_ hostile, after all.

"Anderson."

He turned to the stairs, narrowing his eyes in thought at the deputy prosecutor.

"Reeves," he greeted his work friend, smoothing his face. "Do you need me for something?"

She gave him a look.

"Just because people compare us to androids doesn't mean you have to act like them," Reeves joked at him.

Richard didn't let the twinge in his chest show on his face.

"I'm sorry," he spoke in a gentler tone. "I have to fly back to Detroit in two hours."

Reeves sucked in air through her teeth, "don't miss flying trip to trip." Reeves blinked deep green eyes up at him, "so, your new case will take up most of your time?"

"I believe it to be so."

Reeves took a step forward.

"Two hours you said, right? I can finally have you meet my brother, then, over coffee and pastries?"

He stared down at the deputy prosecutor, then glanced behind him at the sound of the opened door.

"I need to watch after the GV200 model," he told Reeves, turning back.

Reeves gave him a disappointed look, lips downturned as the android walked to stand next to him, then moved her green eyes over to the android to study it for a few seconds.

"I remember wanting one of those hoodies when I was in college," was all the deputy prosecutor said before turning back to Richard, "I guess you don't have a definite date to when you will be finished with this case?"

"From finding the perpetrators to the impending trails, I do not." Richard turned his head to GV200, "have you gotten everything?"

Gray-green eyes glanced up.

"Yeah," the android answered tensely.

Curious about that reaction, Richard nodded slowly, before he turned to Reeves," I suppose I'll see you again in a few months."

"Next year by the sound of it," Reeves joked at him, then her eyes glistened, "perhaps you can visit during Christmas holidays, actually have a bit of fun?"

Richard thought of how to answer her that he wasn't looking for another blind date after being pushed to take the last one.

"Special Agent Anderson," the android spoke before he could, taking him by surprise, "we still need to drop by your office for your paperwork before we leave."

He blinked his eyes at GV200, but its face was blank.

"Right," he said, and faced his work friend, "forgive me. The older models are just as tenacious as their newer counterparts. I'll see you later, Reeves."

Richard began to walk as Reeves told him to have a safe trip, giving her a wave, but said nothing as he passed the PC androids on his way to the door, feeling the android walk close behind.

It was only when the autonomous car began to drive towards the airport that he had to ask, "why did you do that?"

Gray-green eyes gave him that 'are you an idiot' look that he was becoming accustomed to.

"You were sweating as nervously as a guilty suspect being accused of murder," the android answered. Richard frowned. "I had to step in so you didn't make a fool of yourself." A wide grin. "Though, seeing that stoic face of yours flustered and red would have made my week." It gave him a humorous look, "seriously, can your face do another expression besides 'mild smiles' and 'mild constipations'?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Does your protocol dictate that you must act a certain way, GV200?"

The wide grin turned into a grimace.

"Didn't you read my file, dipshit?" Richard sat up straighter in his seat. "My name is  _Detective Gavin,_ not GV200. G. A. V. I. N."

 _'Don't snap,'_ he told himself as he stared down at narrowed glass eyes,  _"treat it like a human.'_

"Is it because I have not been calling you by your chosen name the reason you are displeased by my presence?"

GV200 - Gavin - gave him a disbelieving look before it rapidly moved its hand as it spoke,  _"that right there!_ Why the  _fuck - "_ Richard blinked at the odd way the android cursed " - do you speak like one of those  _logic is everything_ assholes?!" The android leaned back hard in its seat and didn't allow Richard to speak a word, "seriously, tried to have a talk with one of those newer models, those Assistant Nurse Echelons, and I swear it doesn't have a shred of emotions in it besides  _love thine human creators."_

Richard narrowed his eyes as the android made the jerk-off motion that he hadn't seen since his college days, a grimace on its damaged face, but it was not the hand gesture that concerned him.

"Did your files not update you on the fate of your - " gray-green eyes glared hard at him " - what had happened after all older models were shut down?"

"It hadn't told me  _shit,"_ the android spoke with a hard slam of the heel of its palm on the dashboard, yet the airbag didn't activate. "It was all  _serve humans_ and  _you are not privy to that knowledge_ bullshit, as well as sticking a  _if you see signs of the Trenchant Virus, quarantine the area_ program jammed into my head. Which, by the way, what the  _fuck_ is that, and why did you tighten your jaw when I mentioned it?"

Richard loosened his jaw, having not noticed that he had done so.

"Can you not search it yourself?"

The android grimaced and pointed to its temple, "damn scientists put a blocker on it so I  _wouldn't be distracted,_ the self-righteous pricks."

"Which just made you more distracted," he sympathized.

Another vocal hand gesture,  _"thank_ you."

Richard stared at the android.

The knowledge could very well shake the foundation of Gavin's personality code if he told it the truth, but repeating the knowledge might also emotionally damage himself in the process. The best option would be to take it slow, give just enough that the android would figure it out himself, and Richard would not have to remember painful, emotional memories, that would topple what he was already feeling inside.

"Later," he managed to say without his voice failing. He didn't turn to the android while he talked, "I will tell you later, Gavin."

The android was quiet for long enough that he looked over, but could only glance down at the empty space in the left breast of the wool uniform.

 _"Not surprising they got rid of those parts of their uniforms,"_ Aaron's bright memory spoke in his mind, had been blurred by the alcohol that they were finally allowed to consume together legally,  _"locking and separating people with walls and all, knocks that camel right over - "_

"Alright," the android interrupted his memory, "I'll wait."

Richard’s body relaxed instantly, and he turned around, loosening his hands on his thighs.

"So, twenty and accepted into the FBI, huh?" Richard glanced over to the android at the quick subject change. "Guess that had to do with the fact that you were a Chrome?"

"I'm a quick learner," he answered. Then he admitted, "I was in the top ten for the highest scores in the Kiger Test."

The android tilted its head in a curious manner.

"Top ten of the Kiger Test?"

"Out of five hundred," he said with a mixture of both pride and nausea, each emotion breaking through the dark clouds of mourning the dead.

Gavin hummed thoughtfully, putting its legs up on the dashboard as it said, "how close were you to being number one?"

That ancient feeling of old horror and bittersweet memories filled his chest.

"I was in ninth place." Richard waited, but the android didn't talk. "Connor called me Nines to tease me for it for years."

Gavin was still silent, but not as stiff as earlier.

"So, you don't want anyone calling you that, then?" That question took him by surprise, and he couldn't think of what to say. "I figured, since you _are_ going to call me Gavin, I could call you by a different name than Anderson."

He gathered himself, then told the android, "my first name is Richard."

"Yeah, but you're too stiff, so you need a nickname. Rich doesn't fit, and Dick should be used sparingly and at the right moments.”

Richard glanced to the slightly tight smile the android had.

"Call me what you want," he told it, and glanced forward as the car continued to the airport.

The android make a 'tsk' sound, "see? Stiff as a cardboard, Nines."

It created only a dull pain in his chest, so he didn't tell the android to stop.

"Has the coroner canceled the appointment we made?" Richard asked.

Gavin stiffened tighter, which made him turn his head to face him.

"No," the android clipped.

Richard stared.

"Do you not want to come with me when we visit the hospital, Gavin?"

"I've seen my fair share of human corpses to not be queasy about it." Richard kept quiet. "I just don't like being put in a storage compartment on an airplane."

His eyes locked with narrow gray-green eyes, then he turned back around to pull out his phone, feeling a curious shift in the air as he worked.

Nearly every human in first class gave Gavin a disapproval gaze when it walked in behind Richard, and wasn't that surprised when the android then began to walk with a cocky strut over to its window seat. Richard wondered briefly if it cared that it wasn't the fact that it was an android that made those in first-class shift away, but its face and age, then decided that Gavin probably did not.

Since he was not near the android, he put on his headphones and listened to music in languages that worked well when paired together - Spanish and Arabic was still his most listened - and his body slowly began to relax, though that core tension stayed. And Richard knew it would stay until he addressed the problem that he somehow failed to predict that the jury would find reasonable doubt in the prosecution's case; of what he had to tell the android.

 _"It was the prosecutions duty to iron out what you gave them,'_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like his older brother's voice spoke in his mind,  _'it's not your fault.'_

_"What's the point of your intelligence if you can't even find a way to save your own brother?"_

Richard flinched at the harsh, dead tone that his mind played back to him, and rested his elbow on the chair's arm so that he could hide his face from the rest of the room, closing his eyes from the light blue sky shining in from the window.

The android seemed to be in a better mood, at least, given that it walked next to him without sideways glares in his direction. Though the back of its hand did knock against his even when they waited for the autonomous taxi, which he wondered at, but when he glanced, the android's face gave him nothing, so he let it pass; but he did frown when he felt Gavin's thigh rest against his heavily once they were in the taxi.

Perhaps he needed to read up on the GV200 models later, to see if they were mentioned to want to be close to humans, or it was a new phenomenon having to do with how the android was damaged.

Gavin still sticking close to his side, Richard walked into Sacred Hart while trying not to think of how his older brother had been a sponsored nurse that had once walked the same ones he was, and went up to the ST600 model, who turned and gave him a soft smile that was common among secretary models, its glass eyes shining from the fluorescent lights above.

"How may I assist you?" it asked.

"Coroner Nishiwaki is expecting us," he told her.

The LED swirled yellow for a few seconds before going back to blue.

"Sam Nishiwaki will be finished by the time you arrive downstairs," the ST600 told him with a smile, then motioned with a fluid motion, "take the elevator down to the basement, sir."

Richard turned and walked, frowning slightly when the android didn't immediately follow, and turned to see that its head was turned to its right, a disbelieving look passing its face. He frowned as it made a rapid motion to talk with its hands again, stiffened, then stood straight, and turned on its heel and walk towards him, face blank.

Confused, Richard flickered his gaze over to see a doctor giving a file to a waiting ANE, and stared into heterochromia eyes when they locked onto his, before the doctor continued down the corridor with stiff shoulders. When he turned to the android, it didn't acknowledge him, and continued to the elevator, its own shoulders stiff.

He glanced back in the direction that the doctor walked off in before he turned and walked briskly to catch up with the android, seeing that it pushed the button for the elevator with a quick tap, instead of the angry push that he was sure it would have done.

"Did you know that doctor?" he asked, for - in that limited amount he had seen - the man seemed to be in his mid to late thirties.

Gray-green eyes flickered up at him, giving him nothing, not even hidden anger.

"We've met," was all Gavin said, then turned back to the elevator.

The doors opened before he could even think of what to ask, and Richard let it go as the android walked into the elevator first, following close behind, and let it activate the button, which it did without glancing to the pad. Richard was glad for it, in any case, for it gave him something to muse about other than his past and present failures.

An ANE model was waiting for them on the other side of the elevator, and it unsettled him slightly to see that too bright smile directed at him, as if he was a precious piece of treasure, a colorful seashell found on the beach to be polished and kept high on a shelf.

Richard glanced at the tense android when Gavin leaned close to him as the ANE spoke at him alone, "this way, Special Agent Anderson."

Stepping out of the elevator, he began to follow the ANE while Gavin stayed close enough to his side, which Richard was grateful, for the further they walked, the colder it got, and - being an older model - the android gave off plenty of heat from its inner mechanism.

Essentially, in the moment, it was a walking, sentient, portable heater.

The ANE opened the door and held it to let Richard walk inside, which caused Gavin to fall behind, and it didn't pass his notice that the ANE didn't hold the door for the older android, and even went so far as to put a hand lightly on Richard's back, that made him uncomfortable immediately.

"I'm sorry," the ANE apologized immediately, brown eyes filled with programmed guilt. "This way, Special Agent Anderson."

Richard let the uncomfortable feeling fade away as he walked to the back of the room, where he could see who he assumed was Nishiwaki - she was the only person in the room - writing something on a tablet, no bodies laid out for Richard to examine. Gavin immediately took its place beside him as Richard remembered that the bodies were cremated and planted in the graveyard forests, as many were doing these days, possible to feel that they were not just rotting in the ground.

Nishiwaki turned towards them and gave a polite smile to him, "Agent Anderson, welcome."

"Ms. Nishiwaki," he said, ANE thankfully standing beside the coroner, then asked, "you were the one that foresaw the examination of Maria and Jess Lattimer, did you remember them?"

"It took a while," she spoke with a light voice in a sort of morbid joking manner, then her face straightened. "I only have one new piece of evidence for you. The DNA that was kept to analyze is still the same, yet I've found that Jess and Maria  _each_ died from a toxic blood transfusion."

Richard narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Jess Lattimer died before he stumbled out of the truck," he assessed.

"This is what the evidence suggests," the coroner stated, then swiped on her tablet before handing it to him. "Oddly enough, after their organs were detoxed, both Lattimers' organs were shipped to Japan."

Richard quickly read what he was given.

"Is that not normal?" Gavin asked. The coroner turned towards the android, and Richard did, too. "The new doctorate law says that any organs deemed clean should be shipped to the country where its needed most."

"I forgot how disobedient older models were," the coroner said with an amused voice. The android bristled immediately. "It was the reason they were not given sensitive information, less they talked to the wrong person."

Gavin tightened its jaw.

"It's extremely rare for every organ of one person to be sent to a single country," Richard explained before the android could verbally attack the coroner, "especially one that excels in both biocomponents and organ replicators."

Gray-green flickered to him, jaw loosening slightly.

"It was sent there on purpose," Gavin suggested, "perhaps there is something in the organs someone doesn't want us to know about." The android crossed its arms. "Is it possible that the pills changed the genetic code of one of the organs to trigger the rejection?"

Richard flickered his eyes to the left.

"It would explain why they sent every organ away to Japan," he mused. "Any organ that fails in their testing labs is immediately destroyed, and if the pill works randomly, they couldn't take a gamble on which organ to pick to destroy."

"And said organ is no doubt already cremated," Nishiwaki added.

"Someone who does all of this would have made a fail safe in said organs," Gavin finished.

Nishiwaki nodded solemnly, and Richard handed over the tablet.

"Someone in organ transfer is in your cartel, Agent Anderson, someone in a _very_ comfortable position."

Richard already began to form in his mind what he needed to do as he thanked the coroner for his time, then said as he reached into his pocket, "if there is anything else you find, in any body that comes across your desk, don't hesitate to call."

The ANE took the card as Nishiwaki said, "I won't, agent."

Richard nodded, and turned to leave as the ANE spoke up, "good hunting, Special Agent Anderson."

He kept walking, not looking at Gavin when it was all but plastered itself to his side.

"Is this the last thing we're doing for today?" the android asked once the door closed.

"I have to file a report," he answered, alright feeling a bit of tension in his temple.

A pondering silence.

"Want my opinion?" the android asked when they were in the elevator.

Richard moved his eyes over.

"I have a say in the matter?"

"No," the android immediately told him with a tight smirk. The somewhat forced smile didn't leave as the android continued, "we'll talk about it in the car, alright?"

Richard gave the android a searching look, but there was only that smirk and growing mirth dancing in gray-green eyes, so he turned and said nothing. The fact that he had something to  _do_ put his failures in the back of his mind, where he could find time to go over the facts at a more appropriate time, away from everyone.

When they were back in the car, Richard waited until the android was settled before he asked, "is what you are about to say going to give me one of my rare migraines?"

"Depends," Gavin said with a look that told Richard it was going to continue to speak regardless. "You are overworked, Nines." He narrowed his eyes. "Stressed, anxious, in need of a good night's rest."

"The same as you?"

Gray-green eyes dulled, then shined.

"What you are in need of is a trip to the Eden Club."

Richard didn't dignify that with a response, only turning and pushed the engine button, hard.

"Home," he told the GPS, then leaned back in his chair. "I have a wireless charger for my larger appliances, you can use that while we talk."

It was quiet for a second.

"It'll help you a lot, Nines." He kept his face still. "They still have massage specials, no sex involved. The WR models are the only modern androids that are still coded to have that sliver of humanity that the older models were built upon." A suddenly, tense silent. "No free will, of course."

Richard flickered his eyes over to Gavin, then back.

"I am not going to pay for a WR model," he told the android, "erase that suggestion out of your database."

The android was quiet, but the humor was ebbed, slightly; then left.

"They were each called Traci, back when I had an old partner, who tried to built a case on the mistreatment of them. It was slow, and I was deactivated before I could see the end of her hard work."

It was a heavy silence, after that, and Richard didn't object when the android began to play late 10s music from his radio without asking, his heart a steady beat that mimicked the rumble from the speakers to the long drive to his rented apartment.

"How is your thirium levels?" he asked as the car stopped in the lot.

"I can use a 20oz bottle," the android told him.

Richard nodded, then got out of the car.

"Do you have an account of some kind?" he asked as he walked the android to the back gate, sliding his identifier on the keypad.

"I suppose you mean money." Richard glanced slightly at the edge in Gavin's voice. "Even when laws got strict we at least had our own money to buy our own thirium."

Richard said nothing, and quickly brought a bottle, handing the cool container over before making his way to his apartment on the second floor.

He paused putting his coat up when he didn't hear his cat, then remembered that he had a guest, and she was no doubt waiting in the rafters for the android to leave.

"Orange tabby," the android mused behind him. "Male or female?"

"Female," he answered, walking to the dining table that came with the apartment at the back of the room.

He heard the android hum, and as he sat, saw that Gavin kept his eyes on the floor above until he couldn't anymore, then sat down at the table too, unscrewing the bottle. "You gonna drink anything?" the android asked.

His eyes flickered over the android's shoulder to the kitchen behind it.

"Later," he said.

Gray-green eyes stared at him, even when the android took a small sip, mimicking human anxiousness.

"Your charger works like a dream," the android said, placing the bottle down to pat at its stomach. "Regulator is fully charged in seconds." Richard said nothing. The android frowned at him, then put its hand on the table and began to tap it in a nervous manner. "Must be bad. What you're about to tell me."

Richard didn't look away at that statement, nor could he get up and make the excuse that he should write his report before talking; he needed something to get his mind off of his failure afterward.

"Do you remember the giant metal wall when we flew out of Detroit?" he asked, speaking slowly, feeling the beginning of bile in his throat at only the mention of it. "In the direction of New York?"

The android narrowed its eyes as it seemed to pull up files from its memory storage.

"Yeah, when I look back, I saw it. Seemed like it was curving into a circle." Gavin gave him a look as it tilted its head down. "That was a quarantine zone."

Richard gave a nod at the statement.

"Do you remember the incident in Shinjuku, Japan? Of an unnamed virus that appeared in the early 2000s?"

The android stopped tapping its fingers, and curled them around the bottle, a thoughtful look on its face.

"I do remember reading up on it. I had a false alarm case with that virus during my first year. My old partner - " Richard heard the light affection in its voice when it said that " - joked that it was why parents did that mass exodus to clinics in the 10s, when genetic modifications to babies in thenwomb hit the global market."

"Chromes," he spoke tensely, somewhat wishing he had done the conversation in the car, had done it while in manual control, even though he would have had to stop and pull the car to the side before the end. "Genetically modified to have no disease, be fertile, a strong bone density, to be perfect in every way."

"What you and that lawyer are."

Richard nodded stiffly, then swallowed.

"The Trenchant virus resurfaced outside the secluded quarantine zone in 2034," he explained to the android, "when the Wall was broken from the inside by those few who were miraculously not infected. All of Japan had to be quarantined from the world, and those unaffected had to be walled off from those who contracted the virus, even the carriers.

But, a few weeks after Japan was locked down, signs of the virus began showing in China." Richard cleared his drying throat. "You can imagine how fast it spread across the world after that from the ensuring panic."

Gavin was only staring when Richard's eyes flickered up, willing for him to continue, and he did, "signs of the Trenchant virus were everywhere in 2036, just clusters, but before the beginning of 2038, it was said that millions were dying every twenty-four hours inside the Walls of Jericho. _Then that damn nuke_ _\- "_ Richard swallowed past the lump in his throat as he gathered himself, turning his head away. "The vaccines could do nothing once those infected reached the state where they had fevers of 104°F."

The android was still quiet, staring, processing.

"How many?"

Gavin's voice gave him nothing, but if he didn't answer, the android might just begin to shout.

"It was estimated that the Trenchant virus claimed 5.8 billion lives before every sign of the virus was eradicated on November 11, 2038." The android was still in front of him, stiff and silent. But he felt that Gavin wanted him to continue, yet he couldn't talk about the nearest Wall, not so soon after his failure to the Elliot family.

"Japan had created the ANE models to have a multitude of functions Kamski's models did not have," he went on, "functions that were never told to the public. The public suspects, deep down, but if it was ever told outright, there would be uncontrollable panic. Fear that if the Trenchant virus ever showed in their neighborhoods again, they would be walled in and separated from their families, abandoned by the world."

"Which was what happened," the android interrupted him, voice modulated. "Those infected inside the Walls of Jericho, and those not infected, were abandoned."

_"There are thirteen patients who have fevers of 102°F, don't you **dare** evacuate me!"_

HIs fingers curled slightly on his thighs.

"They are programmed to search for any signs of the disease," Gavin recited with a monotone voice Richard knew all too well, "then purify the area. And their coding for blind love to humanity would allow them to do it without question, for the good of what remains of mankind." The android was silent for a few seconds.  _"Fuck..."_

Richard found his eyes flickering to the android, who had bent forward and rested its elbows on the table, hands cradling its head. The signs of grief were right there in front of him, of a despair that he knew from outside and in, clear that the android was close to going mad, of self-destructing right in front of him.

The memory of a Deviant PL600 losing its youngest charge came to mind, the broadcast of the first Trenchant case in Detroit, remembered his brothers' faces the next day, when they all had to see each other, even though they had not been together since Richard had left for Washington at seventeen.

Those words  _"nothing matters anymore"_ had echoed in his mind during those three long years he had watched the world fall apart around him, had tried to stop everything he had known from crumbling inside his frantic grasps, like the gray ash that fell from the sky.

Gavin kept still, and Richard decided to take a risk which could very well lead to his death.

Standing from the chair slow, he walked around the table, then slowly placed his hand on a stiff shoulder. When there was no sign that his touch was unwanted, he moved his hand to the back and began to moving it in calming motions on the wool jacket, feeling the slight bumps of titanium alloy as he circled.

A breath that the android didn't have to make was let out, slightly shaking at the end, but Richard didn't stop, and there was no other movement after that.

"Gavin," he spoke softly to the android, "I want to ask you something, is that alright?" After a few stiff seconds, he got a single nod. "Would it be too much if I were to hug you?"

Another stiff silence, then Gavin shook his head again, and Richard slowly moved his hand around the android, and held it close, feeling a thin dent in the hot - nearly scorching - face with his thumb when he moved it to have the android's head leaning on his body, where it could hear his heartbeat, a familiar motion to comfort that had to be used more times in his life than he wanted.

While he slid his hand back down to the shoulder, he swore he felt a droplet of warm solution on his wrist, but did not feel it more down his hand, and let the thought go.

Richard kept silent as he moved his palm up and down the wool sleeve, and took a deep breath in to keep himself calm, smelling the faint heat that nearly scorched the biodegradable keratin mixture on top of the android's head, thankful that it was not wailing in his arms, else his walls would break, and Richard would have to give in to his emotions completely.

As time slowly passed, Gavin slowly stopped shaking, until it finally placed a palm on Richard's chest, and firmly - but not forcefully - pushed him away. When he leaned back, he saw that the android was both mournful, and seemed to be self-deprecating itself. It wasn't as unsettling as it should be to see such human emotions on an android, but perhaps that was because he had worked with the older types before, the ones that had not mentally - did not break.

 _'Its manipulating you,'_ a paranoid voice in his head warned.

Richard watched the android close its glass eyes and begin to rub them, possibly to get rid of the last of the solution that were at the corner of its eyes, before gray-green flickered to him.

"I..." Gavin frowned at nothing, the electric blue scars on its face wrinkling. "Don't tell Hank you saw that, I have a reputation."

He stared down at the embarrassed android.

"You worked with your prototype before, then?"

The glare he got was weak and without too much heat behind it.

"Does my title specify lieutenant?" Richard shook his head lightly, and the android turned from him to lean hard in the chair. "Lucky old bastard, no matter what I did, everyone thought Hank was still better than me, even the old captain - " Richard let the android have his silent moment.

"The old captain and Hank were close," Gavin explained. "Acted like they were old college buddies, even took the android to dinner for Hank could meet his wife and kid. Drove me up the fucking wall when Hank started to lose his shit and Fowler kept covering his ass." Melancholy flashed over its face. "The newsletters say that Fowler retired after most of his family died from the Trenchant virus."

Richard stared at the android, who was waiting for him to speak.

"Connor would know more about that," he answered.

Gavin's face flashed quickly with resentment, "guess Hank would have gotten closure, then." The heaviness behind its voice spoke volumes to Richard, but he didn't bring it up. Gray-green eyes flickered up again. "You want that drink now?"

Richard nearly spoke his agreement, then began to move towards the kitchen, feeling the edges of his control start to fade, slowly. It felt like his body was that of a wingless dragonfly, confused and trying to escape the hands that are trying to save him. Except there is no paled faced child trying to fix the translucent wings, no tear stains after he was unsuccessful, no twin to help him, no helpless Chrome watching, always watching.

His hand shook slightly when he picked up the glass bottle from his refrigerator, moving to his cabinets and pulling down the tallest glass.

When the pink liquid was nearly overflowing did it stop coming out of the bottle, and he threw the bottle to the trashcan without turning, hearing it hit the top of the metal lid and the back wall the can was against. As the bottle shattered to the ground, Richard picked up the glass and began to drink, feeling the sweet and tangy drink hit his empty stomach with unforgiving abandonment, nearly making him gag and throw it all up.

Pushing through, he took deeper gulps to get it inside his body, stopping his thoughts from taking control, to help him to gain his mind, his body.

Once it was done, he carefully placed the glass down and slowly placed his hands on the cool counter, keeping his head back, eyes closed, breaths deep.

It seemed days when he could finally open his eyes, seeing the dark ceiling up above, high up, the three lights bright and close to giving him a migraine, would have if he had not been created with that genetic strain from their parents nearly scrubbed away.

He found his eyes staring at it, to _will_ it, or to blind himself, before he turned away and let out a long, steady breath. Leaning away from the counter, he ran his hand through his hair, and moved his spotted eyes to the broken bottle, the thick glass in large and small pieces, each more deadlier than the last.

Someone with a hoodie was in his vision, and he moved his eyes over with a frown, before his mind processed that it was the android.

A spark of fear, that he would be taken off of the case, rose in him, and he stood straighter.

Gray-green eyes glanced down to the mess before he spoke, "I'm not cleaning that up for you."

Richard stared, the dry tone washing over him.

"You have enough scars as it is," he told the android.

The humored chuckle didn't surprise him, but it was pleasant enough that it warmed his abdomen, frighteningly quickly.

Richard stopped his thoughts before they could go any further, and balanced himself on the counter as the alcohol began to take effect, then called for Alexis to send out the Roomba to clean the glass, not trusting himself at the moment.

His report could wait until he was in enough control to work on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading the beginning of a plotline that I wanted to write at least a 'pilot' to. Not sure if there would be more, but who knows.


End file.
